Shocking and unshockable nation (I)

Years ago, I saw a decoration on the table of late police spokesman Haz Iwendi  and this is what it says – I’ve been beaten, choked, kicked, swindled, lied to, taken advantage of, and laughed at…the only reason I hang around is to see what happens next! It is a quotation that best describes what […]

Years ago, I saw a decoration on the table of late police spokesman Haz Iwendi  and this is what it says – I’ve been beaten, choked, kicked, swindled, lied to, taken advantage of, and laughed at…the only reason I hang around is to see what happens next! It is a quotation that best describes what the ruling class has reduced the country’s population to. On Christmas day, a period and season when people of goodwill ruminate on the love of God, a Nigerian, Farouk Mutallab was struggling to etch his own name on the sands of history by taking actions to enter the global terrorism list – blow up an aircraft filled with innocent people. His botched plot brought home the bitter truth that terrorism sets no boundaries and recognises none.

For most average Nigerians struggling to make a daily living’ the best way to martyrdom or stardom is not to take the lives of innocent people. In fact, each time I am screened at airports, I remind my friskers that I am a Nigerian – we love to live! Now I will have to speak for myself. But Farouk is not your run of the mill person. He is no average Nigerian struggling through life. He never knew what it meant to live on a ration of 0-0-1 or to juxtapose the figure in any other form and rather than be bitter about it still give thanks to his creator for the privilege. No. His own is a practical demonstration of the proverbial silver spoon. His father had stints in public office and ended up in the lucrative financial sector where he retired a baron with a generous pension and lifetime ability to dispense with patronage.

With his money, he was able to buy for his kid the best education in high-brow schools abroad and perhaps ensured that summer holiday is a memorable time away from the usual blackouts, social and general insecurity in the land. In all ramifications, Farouk is not a native Nigerian. He is a Diaspora Nigerian with only a passport to show for it. He never had to scavenge the rubbish bins in London or miss an exam for non-payment of school fees. He did not suffer the indignity of queuing for scholarship bail out. For his daily commute to school, he did so from the safety, security and opulence of his father’s multi-million pound house all on his own with Allah as his only supervisor and minder.

And when they chose to expose him to Islamic education, it was not the makarantan allo that is the lot of many of his compatriots in Funtua or Kaduna, but an exposure to the pure form of Islam which only money can buy in Yemen. It was from here he took a lethal dose of the medication of extreme fundamentalism. This is what Akunyili was initially trying to say in veiled terms on the first day the news broke. The question to ask Madam Minister is, would it have been different if Farouk had won the Nobel Prize? Wouldn’t she have added him to her rebranding advertisement the way she claimed propriety for the chap who pioneered the Volt for Mitsubishi or Asa for her singing prowess? Shows what happens when a pharmacist steps into the shoes of a PR-strategist.

All the aforementioned is not my shock. No. My shock is not Farouk’s action and that is not because I have an ounce of terrorism or violence in me. I lost the zeal to slaughter my own chicken after returning from an animal rights assignment in the UK in 1994. Man’s cruelty to animals have pricked my conscience that if I lived elsewhere where I don’t have to eat whatever comes my way, I’d look for other sources of protein rather than meat. My children know this and taunt me because except a snake endangers my life or theirs and cannot be persuaded to go on its own way, I would not strike at it. My shock is multifaceted, starting from the intemperate reactions of fellow countrymen and women in a country with 50 years of flag independence.

(To be concluded next Sunday)